A Malfoy Mentality
by LetheSara
Summary: To most other people, Lucius Malfoy was a cold and harsh monster. But with his wife heavily pregnant, an afternoon's reflection allows him to see just how much everything he holds dear means to him and that maybe; just maybe, he isn't so cold after all.


_A/N: Any of those who have read my previous works regarding Lucius Malfoy, which I recommend that you do, will understand my approach to the character and why he may seem out of character to some people. _

_No copyright infringement intended. I own nothing._

_Enjoy. _

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**A Malfoy Mentality**

Seven months down, two to go.

He sighed.

Right now he didn't particularly care what it was like to actually _be_ pregnant, but he knew that it was absolutely no fun at all for the husband in the equation.

Which would be him.

Oh joy.

Anyway, it wasn't like it was his fault that she was being painful. Just because he may or may not have tactfully implied that, in her third trimester, she closely resembled a house.

That and the fact that he kept trying to convince her to let him name the baby "Lucius Jr."

For some reason she just wasn't warming to the idea.

He figured that the baby was doing something to her brain.

After all, everything seemed to have started so well.

He had quite enjoyed the first trimester.

Seeing the tiny bump materialize in front of his eyes, growing bigger and bigger, knowing that there was a baby in there. Knowing that it was _his_ baby in there.

It was magical.

Though there were times when it wasn't all that enjoyable. The time when she threw up on him especially.

The second trimester was fun.

Almost as much so as the initial conception.

_That_ was fun.

The third trimester however, was proving to be less than pleasant.

She was constantly in pain, be it back, neck, or simply the strain of carrying a seven month old foetus in her womb. If she wasn't crying and being over emotional, then she was either ridiculously cheery or completely furious for no apparent reason. And seeing as she blamed him for her discomfort, seeing as it was _his _child, he was usually left to endure the effects of her mood swings.  
Which, to his credit, he did so reasonably happily with a chorus of 'Yes Dear'.

But it got worse.

So very much worse.

On top of all that, and he didn't want to have to admit it, she was actually…she was actually being nice to the house elves.

He'd even caught her saying 'Thank You' to one the other day.

It was unacceptable.

Despicable.

Not to mention completely repulsive.

The memory alone made him nauseous.

As he strode through Malfoy Manor, lost in thought, the usual worries that plagued every father-to-be fluttered across his mind for perhaps the hundredth time that day.

What if he was an awful parent?

What if the child hated him?

What if he or she wasn't in Slytherin?

Oh Merlin what would he do then? He'd rather endure the Cruciatus Curse for the rest of eternity than have his child sorted into Hufflepuff. Ravenclaw wouldn't be completely awful; it would've been his second choice, the backup plan. And he didn't even want to think about the possibly of _any_ child of his being put into Gryffindor.

He felt filthy just thinking about it.

As he contemplated the possibility of a bath, he glanced at his watch. It was just after four o'clock in the afternoon. Narcissa would be asleep, resting. The pregnancy was taking its toll on her, and he was worried.

He pushed open the heavy wooden doors and strode into the middle of the new nursery.

What if he lost her?

He truly loved his wife, more so than anything else in the world.

More than all the gold in Gringotts.

More than being cruel to the House Elves.

More than his Snake Cane.

Without her, he would be lost.

He shut his eyes furiously for a moment and banished the thought from his mind.

She would be fine. Of course she would.

After all, they were Malfoy's; there was nothing they couldn't do.

He lifted his head and gazed around the room. It was truly magnificent. Only the finest designers had had a say in its creation. The walls had been decorated in varying shades of green and silver, with just enough black to add the appropriate amount of emphasis. While the furniture was the best money could buy, well-made and elaborate, usually reserved for no one less than an infant monarch.

With its ornate twists and lines, solid foundations and unmistakable air of grandeur, it was the room of a proper Malfoy.

For any other family, it would have cost upwards of a small fortune, but to Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, it was nothing more than spare change.

After all, his family deserved the best.

His son or daughter deserved the best.

He paused.

Son or Daughter.

It was an interesting thought.

He'd become so accustomed to the idea of having a son that he hadn't really thought about a daughter before.

Although, he knew that it was necessary for a male heir to be born, a baby boy to carry on the proud name of "Malfoy", now that he stopped to think about it, he supposed that part of him wouldn't mind a daughter.

As the first born child of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, she would live a life of pure privilege, in the lap of luxury and surrounded by spoils that other children could only ever imagine.

She would be the first female heir born into the direct Malfoy bloodline in over a century, giving her a status that would surpass that of Royalty.

He could see it now.

She would be the most beautiful baby girl in the entire Wizarding World; the cleverest witch of her age; wealthy beyond belief; gorgeous and talented; one day a beautiful bride.

She would be a princess.

She would be _his _princess.

Daddy's little girl.

He smiled at the thought.

He knew Narcissa would love a daughter. Another girl in the house for her to bond with and talk to. Though she would never admit it, he knew she still missed her traitor sister. Bellatrix, as loyal to her blood as she was, she wasn't exactly the type of person you could confide in. Andromeda was. But she was gone, and Narcissa was left, a lone woman in a man's world.

A daughter would do her the world of good.

But at the same time, he knew that she wouldn't resent a son.

His wife was wonderfully balanced. It was just one of the many things he loved about her

_A son_.

His mind flicked back to the thought.

Mummy's little boy.

Daddy's little man.

A son to could to carry on the family name; a son to hold and whisper little nothings to; a son to teach to fly on a broom, to use magic, to talk to girls.

He sighed at himself.

His child wasn't even born yet and he was anticipating giving him "The Talk".

It was the curse of all expectant fathers.

He supposed that this was why he and Narcissa had willingly decided to not learn the baby's gender before the birth.

There was nothing as much fun as spending nine months of sleepless nights thinking about all the possibilities, turning them over in your head time and time again, only to reach the same conclusions.

Oh joy.

Then there was trying to find a suitable name.

Finding an appropriate baby name that they both liked had truly proved to be a nightmare.

Though, no matter what she said, he still firmly believed that "Lucius Jr." was the only way to go, be it a boy or a girl.

As much debate as there was however, they had both decided very early on that there was no way in hell that they were going to name their son "Harry". He shuddered at the thought.

Nothing could be more awful than that.

He'd sooner name his son "Ronald".

_No, _he admitted to himself. _That was a lie._

Honestly? _"Ronald"?_ You had to be joking.

What a hideous name.

The poor fool.

He could see it now.

_Ronald Malfoy._

He burst out laughing.

It was too funny.

Clutching his shaking sides, he glanced around the room one last time before he turned on his heel and walked out of it the way he'd entered.

He wanted to go and check to make sure that Narcissa was alright. He didn't trust the House Elves to do it and, to be honest; he just wanted to see her.

She was beautiful.

He truly did love her.

If she was still asleep, he would leave her in peace and sort out some of the papers on the desk in his study, but if she was awake, he'd stay with her.

He'd ask her if there was anything she wanted, anything she needed. They'd sit and talk for hours on end, about life, about the baby, and about a thousand other unimportant little details that didn't really matter but that they loved sharing anyway. He'd have to tell her about "Ronald Malfoy" of course, she'd find that endlessly amusing.

In fact, if she wasn't so heavily pregnant, he would have joked about her wetting herself with laughter, but seeing as it was currently quite likely that she might, he considered it insensitive and decided against it.

After all, he could be considerate when he wanted to be.

And he always was with his wife.

He would do anything for her.

If she wanted him to run around the atrium of the Ministry of Magic completely naked, then he would've.

Thankfully, she'd never asked him to do so; or to run around naked anywhere _outside_ of Malfoy Manor. Though this seemed to have been a recurrent request during her second trimester.

He hadn't seen a single reason to protest.

He knew what was good for him.

_That _certainly had been…

He smiled at the thought.

Like he'd already mentioned: The second trimester was fun.

It was funny. When he stopped to think about it, he realised that to most people, he seemed cold and harsh. And this was, to an extent, true. But it was when he was around his family, around those who weren't most people, that he discovered that he was warm. He was loving. He was gentle.

Most people just weren't worth his time.

His family was.

Narcissa. His unborn son or daughter, little "Lucius Jr.".

At the end of the day, that was why he loved his wife; why he loved his family.

_They know all about me, and they love me just the same._

Narcissa knew all about his skeletons, some she shared, but still she loved him. She endured a million little things that would have driven any other woman insane because she loved him.

He loved that about her.

_She knows all about me, and she loves me just the same._

To him, she was perfect.

To most other people she would appear as perfect, but only he knew that she was.

He couldn't ask for anything more.

And he didn't want to.

He was content.

He wouldn't trade her for the world.

Home is where the heart is, and his heart was with her. It had been since the moment he'd first laid eyes on her and it would be until he was little more than a forgotten name buried deep within the pages of history.

His home was with her.

He couldn't help but roll his eyes at the cliché.

It was such an overused expression and he was almost positive that his father would've scolded him for employing it, but he didn't care.

He loved her, and sometimes, just sometimes, only a cliché can convey that sort of love.

He'd readily admit it, he was pathetic.

But again, he didn't particularly care.

He was the happiest man in the world, and would curse anyone who said otherwise.

Tomorrow, to the rest of the world, he would have to reinstate the cold and harsh Lucius Malfoy, but for now, in the privacy of his own home, he could smile.

He could laugh.

He could kiss.

He could even sing if he really wanted to, though it was highly unadvisable.

He could be himself.

He could be with her.

He could be with their unborn baby.

Only two months left to go and he would be a father.

He was beyond excited.

He never thought he could feel so much, but he could.

All thanks to them.

There was no doubt in his mind that if it wasn't for his wife and child, the cold and harsh Lucius that most people had the misfortune of meeting wouldn't have been a façade.

_He _wouldn't exist.

Only a shell would.

He shuddered at the thought.

Standing outside the master bedroom, he silently thanked the powers that be that blessed him with her.

He knocked gently.

As he pushed their door open softly, he saw her stir slightly.

'Lucius.' She whispered with a sleepy smile.

'I'm sorry to disturb you. Go back to sleep. You need to rest.'

'Nonsense. I've been wide awake for hours,' she yawned

He just smiled and stepped into the room, shutting the door silently behind him.

He was truly the richest man in the world.

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_A/N: I would like to take the opportunity to point out that I am, in no way, discriminating against anyone with the name "Harry" or 'Ronald" in reality. Just the aforementioned characters in the 'Harry Potter' series by J.K. Rowling. After all, how would you expect a Malfoy to respond?_

_Don't be shy, tell me what you think. Loved it? Hated it? Comments and reviews are always welcome and much appreciated._


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